The Branch Line

"Look here, Bones, you miserable devil," said Hamilton, "you're scaring
that poor girl. What the dickens do you mean by it?"

"Scaring who?" said Bones, obviously pleased. "Am I really? Is she
fearfully cut up, dear old thing?"

"She is," said Hamilton truthfully. "She thinks you're going dotty."

"Vulgarity, vulgarity, dear old officer," said Bones, much annoyed.

"I told her you were often like that," Hamilton went on wilfully. "I
said that you were a little worse, if anything, after your last love
affair----"

"Heavens!" nearly screamed Bones. "You didn't tell her anything about
your lovely old sister Patricia?"

"I did not," said Hamilton. "I merely pointed out to her the fact that
when you were in love you were not to be distinguished from one whom is
the grip of measles."

"Then you're a naughty old fellow," said Bones. "You're a wicked old
rascal. I'm surprised at you! Can't a fellow have a little heart
trouble----"

"Heart? Bah!" said Hamilton scornfully.

"Heart trouble," repeated Bones sternly. "I've always had a weak
heart."

"And a weak head, too," said Hamilton. "Now, just behave yourself,
Bones, and stop frightening the lady. I'm perfectly sure she's fond of
you--in a motherly kind of way," he added, as he saw Bones's face light
up. "And, really, she is such an excellent typist that it would be a
sin and a shame to frighten her from the office."

This possibility had not occurred to Bones, and it is likely it had
more effect than any other argument which Hamilton could use. That day
he began to take an interest in life, stepped gaily into the office and
as blithely into his secretary's room. He even made jokes, and dared
invite her to tea--an invitation which was declined so curtly that
Bones decided that tea was an unnecessary meal, and cut it out
forthwith.